


The Real Winner

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Group Targets [14]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Babies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8281745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: This mechanical baby project can only go well.





	

/please Q I am begging you

/it counts as credits??

/you and I both know I have enough credits to pass three times over

/the point was more that it counts as credits for me

/ugh FINE

/just don't expect me to be getting settled down any time soon

* * *

Eve drags him to the lecture room where the whole project is going to start. “Thanks so much for doing this, honestly; I just need to survey some results with different pairs and stuff.”

Q sighs deeply and allows his wrist to proceed him as far as him arm can stretch before actually going through the door. Inside, sitting on or leaning against the desks are three others; Bill, and two others Q doesn't recognise.

“Hello!” Eve says, bright and nervous. “Thanks for coming and doing this. I'm going to be comparing the results to use in my sociology essay, so it's very useful to me and I do appreciate you doing it. You will also get some credits for your own courses as thanks.” She smiles and Bill gives her a thumbs up. “I need your names?”

“James Bond,” the slightly shorter blond man says. Q doesn't pay much attention; he's sure that Eve will put him in a pair with her or Bill, or on his own. He doesn't want to interact with others, he wants to get this over with and get out.

“Gareth Mallory.”

“And we're the Pinky and the Brain,” Bill says helpfully, gesturing to himself and Q. Eve sends him a withering look to partially disguise her smile.

“Well, since we're going alphabetically, we'll pair up Bond and Brain, Moneypenny and Mallory, and Pinky, I'm afraid you're on your own.” Bill pulls a mock-disappointed face. Q’s jaw drops open.

“But-” he manages, before Bill interrupts him.

“Don't insult the father of your child as the first thing you ever say to him.”

“The only way to swap, Q, would be to accept your new title as Pinky and defer to Bill’s wisdom as the Brain,” Eve says, arms folded.

Q snaps his jaw shut and glares at them both.

“I'm slightly insulted, and yet wholly unsurprised.” Bill sighs. He is clearly enjoying himself all too much.

Eve picks up the three mechanical babies and places them on the front desk. “When I turn these on, you have to treat them like real babies. You get some equipment and Bill gets the right to childcare during his lectures.”

Bill grins. “Awesome.”

Q folds his arms. “Why does he get childcare?”

Eve rolls her eyes. “Because he doesn't have a partner. The rest of us have to co-parent,” Gareth answers for her.

James raises an arm facetiously. “Do I get childcare for Q?”

Q glares furiously at his new partner as the others laugh. “Sadly, no.” Eve switches on the first baby and hands it carefully to Bill.

James reaches forward to take their baby and heads over to Q. “So, what's our baby called?”

Q shrugs, glaring down at the baby. “I don't care.”

James looks at him, indignant. “She's got to have a name.”

“ _She_?” Q says, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, she also has to have a gender, alright?” James says, rolling his eyes.

Q folds his arms. “Oh yeah? What if the baby’s agender? Genderfluid? Don't be so-”

“Q, this really isn't the time for social justice, okay?” Eve sighs.

“Fine,” James says. “ _They_ will be given a gender-neutral name. Happy now?”

Q sniffs. “Justice.”

James’ eyes narrow. “I thought now wasn't the time for social justice.”

“Exactly,” Q says, staring straight at Eve. “Let's call them Justice.”

Eve sighs deeply and James shrugs. Gareth is grinning into his hand and Bill has to sit down for fear of disrupting his baby with his laughter. “Justice Bond,” James says. “You know what, fine.”

“How’s the naming ceremony coming along over there, Bill?” Eve says.

Bill holds his baby up in the air like Simba, only much more careful. “Ophelia,” he says, settling her back into his arms. “I'm going to fight any Danish princes who come near her.”

Eve shrugs. “Sure. I don't really know what that means, but fine. Any names here?”

Gareth looks slightly terrified at being put on the spot. “Douglas?” he suggests, staring down at the baby as if in hope of inspiration.

“Excellent.” Eve smiles. “We keep the kids for a term, so we need to work out schedules. Bill, your childcare is my sociology teacher in the office down the hall.”

“Cheers,” he says, investigating the box of baby equipment while the others calmly discuss/argue viciously over co-parenting schemes. “Ooh, a papoose.”

By the time the others are done, Ophelia is the most well-dressed baby any of them have ever seen, strapped securely to Bill’s chest. He's somehow managed to get an entire cardboard box of bottles, clothes, toys and a changing mat into his backpack and the others can only stare at him in awe.

Bill shrugs, confused. “What?”

* * *

The schedule somehow works out that, on Thursdays, Tuesdays, Sundays and every other Wednesday, there are three babies in the flat that Eve, Bill and Q share. Q finds this almost intolerable.

“How are you both so good at this?” he whines.

Eve grins, rocking Douglas gently as he feeds. Bill looks over. “Hold their head a bit higher, Q. They'll be able to feed easier.”

He does, and Justice does seem happier - as much as a plastic doll can, anyway. “How did you know that?”

“Google is my friend, mate,” Bill grins.

Q sighs deeply and puts the bottle on the table when Justice is done. Bill mimics him and swings Ophelia up onto his shoulder, patting her back. “Now what are you doing?” Q says with a hint of desperation.

Eve takes pity. “Burping. Hold them on your shoulder, like Bill.”

Q must admit, though, that watching TV with something to cuddle is nice. And seeing Bill wash up in a papoose, which has quickly become a second skin, is an experience he will cherish.

* * *

Bill arrives, breathless, at the nine o'clock politics lecture on Thursday. Gareth raises an eyebrow at him.

“Took longer than I had anticipated,” he pants.

“Nice papoose. Is she going to stay quiet for the whole two hours?”

Bill looks down at his chest in horror. “Bugger. I bloody hope so. Hear that, Ophelia? Please?”

Inside, the lecturer frowns down at Bill’s baby. “I can't let you in here with a child. It could be disruptive to others’ learning.”

Bill draws himself up to his full height. “It would be disruptive to my learning to throw me out, sir.”

Gareth nods. “Discrimination based on the childcare needs of students is against the university code of conduct.”

The lecturer gives them an evil look, but allows Bill inside. “I think he thought she was a real baby,” Bill whispers, grinning. “Cheers, mate.”

Gareth ducks his head, grinning back.

* * *

/Where do you want to parent swap?

/meet me at the nice restaurant in the centre of town

/I am not giving you Justice while you're on a date, James.

/you think me asking you to a restaurant is a date?

/I meant with someone else, obviously.

/jealous? ;) ;)

/I'll leave her on your doorstep at this rate.

* * *

“Why didn't you want to meet me at the restaurant?” James says as he shoulders the nappy bag and settles Justice in his arms.

“I said. I didn't want to give you a baby in the middle of your date,” Q frowns.

“I wasn't going to invite anyone else. I just thought you and I could have a meal.”

Q raises an eyebrow. “With our plastic baby?”

James rolls his eyes. “A nice family outing, yes.”

“Bond, this may be hard for you to believe, but I don't want to go on a date with you,” Q says, turning away.

“Why would it be hard for me to believe?” James says teasingly.

“Because you've an ego the size of my flat,” Q says quickly.

James laughs, and Q walks home a bit faster to give the fluttering of his heart an excuse.

* * *

“Eve says to come back to ours for the evening,” Bill says after their lecture.

Gareth looks up, startled. “Really?”

Bill rolls his eyes. “Psyche. No, seriously. Unless you hate Indian takeaway, in which case, I don't know what to tell you other than we aren't friends anymore.”

“We're friends?” Gareth blurts.

Bill stands on tiptoe and slings an arm over his shoulders. “Sure are. Sorry.”

* * *

“Pass the brown potato one,” Q says, ignoring Bill’s sigh. Gareth sends it up his end and Eve pours them some more wine.

The doorbell rings and Bill gets up. “Douglas is fussing,” he calls as he passes Eve’s door. She sighs and trots off to get the baby. “Oh, hello James. Come in. Hungry?”

 _Please say no,_ Q thinks.

“Certainly smells good,” James says. “Thanks.”

_Damn._

Q gets up quickly when James enters. “Give me Justice, then.”

“Or give me death,” Bill says happily and Gareth and James laugh.

Q blushes traitorously. James laughs very nicely, and Q hasn't been able to stop thinking about the various ways that James looks and the things that he does ever since he suggested the date. It's been making Q very cross.

He takes the baby and goes into his room to put them in their cot. He sighs. “Justice, what do I do?” he says sadly. “I think I might _like_ him. This is terrible.”

* * *

It's become distinctly late by the time they've stopped having fun. They are also pretty drunk.

Bill looks out of the window. “It's too late, you can't go home now.”

“Where are they going to sleep?” Eve says.

“Sofa?” Bill suggests. “Q, you have the only double bed. Mind sharing?”

Q’s definitely drunk. He's fairly sure he didn't give his mouth permission to say “Yeah, sure.”

* * *

Gareth is snoring on the sofa, ending the “who sleeps where” discussion almost before it has begun. Rather awkwardly, Q leads James back to his room.

“I like sleeping on the left; do you mind?” he says.

James nods. “I prefer right. We match.”

Q resolutely doesn't hear drunken wedding bells, instead hurling himself face-first into the mattress. He can't remember why he thought that was a good idea, but James laughs softly and he doesn't care. Q settles under the covers as far left as he can go and ignores the voice in his head which sounds like Bill and is making a Jeremy Corbyn joke. He watches as James fusses Justice's cot until they are comfortable to his satisfaction with a warm feeling in his chest that could be affection, alcohol, or, more likely, both.

James gets in beside him, smiles and turns off the light. “Night.”

* * *

Q was resolute that he wouldn't become the trope. He was going to stay awake all night. He was going to stay on his own side of the bed. Did he?

No.

Not even slightly.

Q scrambles out of James’ octopus hold like a newborn deer and flails down the corridor to the bathroom. He sticks his head unceremoniously under the tap until he has been thoroughly waterboarded then collapses to the tiles, head between his legs. _I should apologise_ , he thinks. _I don't ever want to look him in the eye again. In those beautiful, ice blue eyes…_

_Fuck._

Q struggles to his feet and heads back to his room. James is gone. Suddenly panicked, Q grabs his glasses as if he might have missed a six-foot-something human built like a tank. He hadn't.

He walks down the hall to the kitchen, wondering vaguely whether he was having a stroke but without the requisite morning mental power to do anything about it.

The smell of toast, in fact, emanated from James who appeared to be making his own breakfast. “Got enough toast?” Q says.

“I had anticipated sharing,” James says, sending him a pointed look.

“Oh,” Q says, sitting at the table. “Listen, about last night, I'm really -”

“Don't say sorry,” James says sadly. “Let me have this one thing, Q, please.”

Q blinks. “Okay.”

James puts the plate of toast between them as a peace offering. Q takes a piece, worrying it between his fingers.

“Do you want to go to the cinema on Friday?” James says suddenly. Q looks up. “Saw something was on and thought of you.” James shrugs.

Q smiles slightly. “Like a proper family outing?” James beams at him. “Well, you'd better impress me. It's not like you wine and dine me, is it?”

James grins. “We've got a child, Q. It's a bit late for all that, don't you think?”

* * *

“The results are in!” Eve says dramatically. Gareth drums on the table and Bill oohs appropriately. “In joint second for health is Douglas and Justice, which means that -”

“BILL WINS!” Bill yells, hands above his head in triumph. “Bill wins!”

James looks down at Q fondly. “I think I'm the real winner here.”

“No! Bill wins!” the man declares.

Q pushes James in the side affectionately, ignoring Bill. “Or maybe I am.”

“Bill wins!” Gareth cannot appear to stop laughing.

“I got my results for my essay, so who's the real winner here?” Eve says smugly.

“Bill!”

**Author's Note:**

> BILL! BILL! BILL! BILL! BILL NYE THE SCIENCE GUY!  
> Deleted lines which broke the fourth wall: Q was resolute that he was not going to become the trope. Unfortunately, the author is trash and has no respect for his feelings. She likes stupid schmoopy tropes, okay? This is a fanfic, Q, come on.


End file.
